


Our Bones are Iron

by Cupcakemolotov



Series: come alive [62]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst and Feels, Broken Engagement, Dark Magic, Esther is not a nice person in this fic;, F/M, Family Drama, Implied/Referenced Torture, Knight!Klaus, Lady!Caroline, Light Angst, Magic, Post-War, all non con elements are not the main characters and referenced only
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:21:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cupcakemolotov/pseuds/Cupcakemolotov
Summary: When Mikael starts a war with the Throne over his wife's execution, Caroline's world is thrown into chaos. Two years later, and she finds herself facing her ex-betrothed from opposite sides of the war. Klaus has defeated her father for the King, and now she must find a way to strike a deal with him to save the people her father nearly destroyed to aid Mikael's rage.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Series: come alive [62]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/964005
Comments: 24
Kudos: 137





	Our Bones are Iron

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my WIP for ages. As you can tell, I am trying to get things cleaned up! I drew inspiration years ago from a tumblr post going around, factual or not, that read "friendly reminder that it was common for the lady of a castle to assist at the bath of a visiting knight." So here is what I did with it.

It was the clink of armor that left her heart in her throat. Caroline’s fingers tightened on the satchel she carried with her, and she forced herself to breathe. Six steps below, and she could see the light flickering from the soft mage lights and the movement of a shadow just visible beneath the heavy wood. For a single moment, she allowed herself the fantasy of fleeing back up the darkening staircase to the safety of her room but she was no longer a child. At twenty-four years of age, she should have already been wed and looking after a home of her own, but the Civil War had put many dreams on hold. They had been boxed up and tossed as easily aside as a servant cleaning a room.

But now the war was over and her family had lost.

By every tradition, it should have been her mother walking these steps. But Elizabeth Forbes had retired hours before the army had arrived on their doorstep, and she had made no move to rise once it had become clear that they would be occupied for the evening. Caroline had long since learned that no amount of pleading would stir her mother once she’d taken to her room. She tried not to resent her for it. Something had broken in her mother when her father had turned his back on the kingdom, and no amount of wishing or magic could fix it. But tonight, it would have been the worst of slights to leave this Knight to his own bath. And rudeness wasn’t something she could afford. Not when the lives of everyone in her household depended on her. And they would continue to depend on her as they walked the tightrope her father had left them on.

Caroline had little hope that they would be rid of the Knight and his men anytime soon, and it’d been made abundantly clear that they were being evaluated for weaknesses. Her father’s surviving Senschels had been requested for dinner that night, and the exquisitely polite note sent along requesting that the household to keep to their rooms had been a request she’d been more than willing to keep.

Except for this one thing.

Her fingers shook, and she closed her eyes, forcing herself to take a slow breath. Caroline had known this was coming the moment she’d seen the banner cross the ridge. She’d been tending her mother when word of the soldier’s approach had reached them, and she’d paced at the window waiting for the first glimpse of who approached. Somehow, she’d known what she would see before the first banner had crept over the ridge. The Black Knight’s banner had been easily recognizable as the crossed the ridge, and unavoidable proof of who had won. The King’s grasp had held firm, and they were now on their own. No remaining allies would offer them aid as long as this Knight occupied their castle.

It had taken most of the day, the long arm of evening shadowing the courtyard before they’d reached the gates. Caroline had already given the order that they would offer no resistance. The remaining lives of the young boys and elderly left behind would not be sacrificed on the ashes of her father’s arrogance.

Now she just had to ensure their futures.

In that one regard, Caroline knew she was the better advocate for her people than her mother. With her father gone for the last two years, the duty of caring for her people had fallen to her. She knew the lands, the people, their lives. Tonight, alone with their conqueror, it was her duty to advocate for those who remained.

And she would.

Caroline just... needed a moment.

Her nails dug tightly into her palm and she struggled to find the composure that had been missing since she’d seen the first clear view of his banner. It had been two years since she had last seen Lord Niklaus Mikaelson, and nearly as long since he had broken their bethroment. All her life, she’d grown up under the weight of that marriage. Klaus had been the third son of William’s closest friend, and he and Mikael had looked forward to combining their bloodlines.

Klaus had still been mostly a boy then.

Freshly knighted with long bones and a face he hadn’t yet grown into. But even then, only a fool had ignored the raw violence of his magic, the way he seemed to hunger for the world. Once, she would have called him something like her friend. Their relationship had always been a bit contentious, the families expectations an unrelenting pressure between them, but she’d found herself learning to trust him. He was rough around the edges, darkly cynical and had a temper that was so very easily pricked but he’d never deliberately hurt her. In a world where she was her father’s daughter first, his betrothed second and Caroline third, she’d always appreciated that. Quietly, in the secret corners of her heart, she’d let herself _like_ him.

Then a year to nearly the day before their marriage, on her twentieth birthday, everything had gone to hell. Esther had been executed by the Crown for magical treason, and Elijah and Klaus had denounced their parentage, taking their younger siblings with them. Her father had taken her silence as he’d announced the end of her bethrothment as agreement, but it had been shock that held her tongue. In the span of three days, all her expectations, all of her plans, had been upended violently and she’d been left clutching bloody shards of a life where she couldn’t find her footing.

But the worst had been yet to come.

Her family had been banished to their country estates in sudden disfavor from the crown when her father chose to side with Mikael and all his rage, and nearly all Caroline’s court friends and acquaintances dried up like a spring stream. Her mother had disappeared to her bedroom, her father fell into drink, and she’d been left trying to hold together their estate and people with a grim determination. For weeks, she waited for Klaus to send her word. Something. Anything that could explain why he hadn’t warned her of his plans, given her time to shore up her defenses before he’d abandoned her.

It’d been a bitter, angry pill to swallow when he sent nothing.

Two years later, her father and Mikael had instigated a Civil War that had split the kingdom nearly in half. And now her father was likely dead, killed by the man he’d once viewed as the future of his family. By right of conquest, everything her family had owned for generations, everything she had worked so hard to preserve now belonged to Klaus.

Caroline let out another shaky breath, sudden exhaustion leaving her winded. She couldn’t afford to let it show. Tonight was her only real chance of finding mercy for those who had been left behind by her father’s armies. She couldn’t let the memories of the boy he’d once been interfere with her negotiations with the man Klaus had become. Becoming a Knight, earning the Black Banner for his own? It was proof that Klaus had grown into his strength, that he was considered worthy by the King. No easy feat, when his parents were both traitors to the crown.

And now he was here.

She didn’t know how she wanted to feel.

Sometimes, in the dark of her chambers, she’d let herself wonder if things had been just a little different between what might have gone differently. What would her life have been like? Would she have been brave enough to make a similar decision if she’d seen what her father had become before it was too late? Did it matter? In the end, those were nothing but foolish, girlish thoughts. She would never abandon her mother or her people to her father’s capricious whims and Mikael’s unquenchable thirst for vengeance.

And so while the heart that Klaus had bruised had healed, it hadn’t forgotten.

And knowing that if she stepped through those doors and she’d see him for the first time in years, that she would be close enough to touch him, left her breathless. And she couldn’t afford that kind of weakness. Klaus who might have been hers once was gone. Lord Klaus Mikaelson thought her the enemy. Squeezing her trembling hands tightly together, Caroline took another bracing breath and squared her shoulders. Avoiding Klaus any longer wouldn’t give her any more clarity of thought than hours of waiting hadn’t already wrought. Jaw set, she set her palm flat on the bath door and pushed it open.

It was a little like stepping into a different world, and she could almost taste the magic that layered the walls and windows, an unsubtle reminder that he was now the power here. For a moment the humidity from the steam made it difficult to adjust to the low lights, and she let the door shut quietly behind her. Klaus stood with his back to her, gaze directed through the windows that were kept were usually cracked open to let out the worst of the steam, but he had left closed. She didn’t know how he stood the heat in the heavy armor he wore.

Still, he said nothing, and so she took the time to study him. To absorb the changes time had wrought in an attempt to shore her heart against them. The lanky youth she’d known was gone, and the man was built on lean but powerful lines. The armor added a layer of bulk, but it was clear that there was solid muscle beneath it. The short curls were familiar, for all that the steam had turned them riotous.

Finally he made a soft sound, nearly a sigh, and turned. His gaze locked on hers immediately and the hard line of his jaw softened as he was clearly caught off guard by her presence. For a long moment they simply stared at each other, and Caroline tasted blood as she struggled to contain her reaction to the impact of him.

“Caroline,” he said finally, slowly. He drew out the consonants and vowels of her name as if he was remembering how to say them. “I expected your mother.”

Caroline dipped in a quick curtsy, refusing to allow his casual use of her name rattle her even though it had. The flush on her cheeks could easily be mistaken for the heat. For a heartbeat, she allowed herself to wonder what he could possibly have wished to speak to her mother about that required this level of spell work to maintain their privacy. She supposed she’d find out, and dread filled her stomach. “My Lady Mother is unwell, Lord Mikaelson.”

Something hard flickered through his gaze, the fullness of his mouth tightening. “I am sorry to hear that.”

She _sincerely_ doubted that. But there was something about the way he stood, the slightest hint of his magic between them that warned her to be cautious. Lifting her chin, she nodded. “Thank you.”

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards before his eyes skimmed down her body, and it took teeth gritting composure to keep from reacting to the edge in his gaze when it returned to hers. “You’ve lost weight.”

The familiarity of his words had her spine stiffening. “I _cannot_ imagine that is any of your concern.”

An arch of his brow, something undeniably arrogant behind his gaze. “No?”

Caroline lifted her chin. She would not let him make this personal. “ _No_.”

Klaus studied her face. “You’ll find that there are very few things that are not of my concern, Caroline. Particularly now.”

His refusal to use her surname and title left her stomach churning, but to give an inch now would mean being at a disadvantage later. Her people couldn’t afford her to be weak, no matter her tangled feelings. Tongue sliding briefly between her teeth, she took a deep breath. This particular conversation would get them nowhere. “Should I take your words to mean my father is no longer alive?”

Something jumped at the base of his jaw, a muscle pulled too tight. “Your father chose death over a trial. I am sorry for that, Caroline.”

Something inside her chest cracked open at the acknowledgement, and her next inhale was shaky. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, the acknowledgement of her father’s fate when she’d already known the likelihood of it. Her father had never intended anything but victory, had allowed no plan for failure to be brought to his attention. A more charitable person would perhaps attribute such a decision to choose death as not wanting to drag his family though the pain and horror such a trial would bring, but Caroline knew better. Her father had finally seen the consequences of his actions before him and chosen to abandon his family to their fates, again.

And it _hurt_.

Her father had done so many terrible things in the name of friendship, had allowed Mikael’s rage to feed his own, but once he’d been a father who had cared for his daughter and people, a man who had honored his wife. But that pain, that mourning for the man he’d once been, that was a private grief and she would not let Klaus see it. Setting her teeth, Caroline clawed her emotions into place, and when she spoke, her voice only shook a little.

“You cannot be comfortable in that armor in this steam.” She motioned for him to turn. She would do her duty. When she had nothing else, there was always duty.

Caroline did not expect him to catch her hand, palms and fingers warm and calloused against her skin. Her gaze snapped to his and he studied her with a familiar intensity that left her mouth dry. “It is your mother who should be here, now, Caroline. There are a number of things she and I need to discuss. Why did she send you?”

“As I have told you, she is not well.” She repeated, voice sounding hard and flat to her own ears. He sighed, mouth tightening as he looked at the door behind her, and then those blue eyes touched with gold returned to hers and nothing there was comforting in the depths. Iron and fire, a hint of the power that clung to him like a shield. A sort of resolution that left her shoulder tight with strain.

Klaus had always been powerful, but she had never feared that power. Even then, with the weight of it sitting behind his eyes like judgement, the strength of it tangible between them, it did not frighten her. It should have. He had never hidden what he was and how terrible he could become, though as a girl she’d foolishly thought he’d never have cause to use such strength against her family. How wrong she had been.

When he spoke, his words were measured, pulled taut by an emotion she could not name.

“Yes, I imagine she is. Defying a geas is never easy, but she has done it before and as all of the holders are now dead, it should be gone.” His words pounded in her ears like blows, and she stared at him, not comprehending his words. “She should have found the strength to finish what she started, not offer her daughter as a sacrificial lamb.”

She jerked against his grip, shock replacing the hard knot of grief. “Do you jest?” she rasped, shaking her head. “That is impossible. My mother could _not…_ ” Her words died as he continued to watch her, expression unyielding. “A geas is _blood magic_.”

“So it is.”

Anger flashed hot and potent through her veins. “You are accusing my father of blood magic. Is it not enough that he is dead? That all that he worked for is now laid to waste?”

“No, Caroline. Not your father, though we will always wonder what part he played in my mother’s schemes as he chose his sword instead of confessing his part to the courts.” He set his jaw, and she almost didn’t recognize the judgement he wore on his face. “Though I am sure we will find bits and pieces of the scheme as we go through his things and question his remaining people. But the blame, the magic that built the conspiracy that lies at the feet of Esther.”

Caroline opened her mouth and closed it, something hard fisting around her lungs. Shaking her head, she curled her fingers tightly against her palms. “Esther is dead these two years past,” she pointed out around a throat gone tight. “Powerful she might have been, but even she cannot perform magic beyond the grave.”

Blood magic did not linger, after its holder died.

“If it was only so easy,” Klaus returned, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “To cut the head off of the snake, and everything ends. But my mother schemed far better than anyone realized, Mikael upheld his part of them, until the very end.”

She didn’t want to ask, but she needed to know. “My mother would never have willingly committed to aiding black magic.”

He shook his head. “I cannot speak for the motivations of your mother, Caroline, only of the actions she took to protect you. Esther was many things, but trusting? Never. Your mother was her confidant for many years. There were secrets shared between them that she would allow no one to spill. How do you think she survived so many years practicing forbidden magic?”

She couldn’t breathe. Of all the terrible things that she had imagined Esther to have committed to receive a King’s Execution, she had not once thought of this. That Klaus thought her mother had been a victim? That Mikael had willingly helped her do these terrible things and that her father had fought at his side. Had he known? Had he also been a victim. Did it matter?

Emotions carening, she took a shuddering breath. He said her mother had _protected_ her. Not abandoned her to her duty, to the fate that her father had chosen for all of them. He said she was weak for not doing this duty instead of Caroline. She didn’t know what to think.

“Turn around.”

His head tipped, brows lifting. “I beg pardon?”

Caroline gestured impatiently, her lungs stretched too tight. “You lay serious accusations at the feet of ghosts, while damning my mother for her lack of strength in nearly the same breath. I need to think, and if you insist on having this conversation _here_ , I will not be accused of failing to show you the full kindness of my house. Turn. Around.”

She needed him to _look_ somewhere else than at her, needed a moment to drag back a little of her shattered composure. A hint of something like understanding softened the look behind his eyes and he obligingly turned, giving her access to the ties and buckles that would loosen his chest plate and arms. Her next inhale was shaky, and not something he could miss, but at least she wouldn’t have to deal withhim facing her while she refitted her mental armor.

“I would never dare lay such an accusation of a lack of manners at your feet.” Klaus said after a moment, and his words were light, nearly teasing, and she made a noise of disagreement.

“You toss words such as blood magic and geas about quite easily,” she rebuked as she set to work, her fingers strangely steady. Such a duty should have been merely practical, the duty of a Lady for a visiting Knight, an old tradition that built a formality between them, and _yet_. She had never done this for him before, had never seen him in less than fully armed or in the many layers of court garb. The sudden pounding of her pulse was not merely from her temper. Forcing herself to ignore the strange intimacy, she kept her eyes on his armor. “Let us not pretend that you believe manners to be important when speaking of such things.”

“I would never be so foolish as to forget their importance, particularly after having been taken to task regarding them by you, more than once.” Now she could hear the smile in his voice and it annoyed her. That he would remind her of what he had walked away from so many years ago now and just how well he had once known her. “Manners, the correct way to fold a tablecloth and the proper way to curtsy to cut someone from your social circle. Were those not the skills you informed me in these very halls that should not be underestimated for their importance?”

She paused, gaze flicking to the nape of his neck, eyes narrowed. “Now you jest.”

“About the importance of how to fold a tablecloth? I would never.”

Annoyed, because his words _were_ helping her steady, she tugged the first piece of his armor away from his left arm and set it on the bench to her right. It was a struggle, not to study the shape of him so clearly defined by the thin cloth that ran down the length of his arm. The hard muscle she could have felt beneath her fingertips if she fumbled a buckle even a little.

She could not let her mind wander in those directions or to allow him to distract her from the hard truths, if it _was_ the truth, that he spoke. “Do you have proof?”

“Of what?”

Caroline rolled her eyes now that he could not see and started on the ties for the other arm. “What do you mean _of what_? You have declared my mother was under a geas, that she kept Esther’s secrets because of magic. What else could I possibly wonder about?”

There was a long pause and she had finished his arms and was working on the complicated buckles for his chest piece when he finally spoke. “Did you ever wonder why I never sent you a single message in all the years since we last saw each other? We did not part on harsh terms, indeed, we both rather looked forward to upcoming nuptials the following year.

She bit down hard on the side of her tongue as she tried to steady herself from his question. They had looked forward to the wedding, to the future they were building together. Those curious, heated promises Klaus had made as they had danced carefully around the discussion of the marriage bed. It was why his silence had hurt. She had trusted him.

Caroline found that she didn’t want to admit to that now, of how much his silence had cost her. She also couldn’t lie convincingly, not with his magic still tangible in the air between them. He would know the moment she tried. It was a particular quirk to his magic he did not advertise, but one he had once admitted to her.

“No.”

A shift of his weight, the slightest shake of his head, but he did not call her on the lie. “The bargain I struck with your mother - her condition was that I not contact you until after we had won.”

The back of the chest piece slipped from her fingers and clamored loudly between them, barely missing her toes. He spun and she took a hasty step back, eyes wide. He impatiently removed the rest of the amor and for a long moment, they stared at each other. Klaus, stripped to his waist of his armor and suddenly so touchable her hands trembled with it, but his words were a sudden, intangible barrier between them.

“Bargain? What possible bargain could you have made with my mother?” Caroline demanded, reeling. That was impossible. What he said should have been impossible. Her _mother_...

“She knew the identity of my father.” His eyes were steady, and he started to move and stopped himself at her careful step back, his chest rising in a careful breath. “Once my mother was executed, it gave Lady Elizabeth a window of opportunity and she took it. But she had conditions.”

“Your father? That isn’t a hard question to answer.” Caroline retorted, hiding her shaking hands in her skirts. “Mikael.”

A laugh, bitter and harsh. “Did you ever wonder why Henrik died?”

She paused, staring at him. Henrik had been the heart of that family, the tiny, pestering glue that had brought them all together. Even Finn, with his remote manners and unbending distaste for those he considered beneath him had smiled around Henrik. “He caught a wasting sickness.”

“My mother liked to accomplish her plot in threes. For every two children Esther gave Mikael, she birthed one to another man.” Klaus’ eyes shimmered with magic, the rage beneath his words palpable. “I was the first child born out of wedlock. Henrik was the next. The magic he was born with was not what my mother had hoped for, so she considered him expendable. She drained him dry. She planned to use the magic in her play to take the throne, and she nearly got away with it, except for Kol.”

Caroline swallowed hard. “Kol was always in places he didn’t belong.”

He tipped his head in agreement. “It almost cost him his life. Elijah and I did not understand what he had found until weeks after we had buried our brother, the evidence he stole from Esther’s hidden chambers, until weeks later. It was by his testimony that Ester was executed.”

Mikael would never have forgiven Kol for it.

“It was your mother who warned us that we had to cut ties with Mikael immediately, that returning home would cost us more than we could bear. She is who told us the truth of Esther’s and Mikael’s ambitions, though we had little other than her word for what it meant.”

“But that’s…” she stared at him, aghast. “What could my mother have known? She has so little magic and no use for it.”

“My father’s name is Ansel,” he said bluntly. “He was thought to be dead, but your mother not only knew his name, but how to _find him_. But her information had a price. She wanted us to cut ties with Mikael publicly, and she wanted my promise that I would not attempt to take you with me.”

Her own laugh bubbled in her throat, hysterical and disbelieving. “And why should I believe you? What purpose could such a bargain have served either of us? I am not so dear to either of you that such a thing should make any sense.”

His mouth tightened into a slash of anger, but his words were cool. “Ansel is the King’s brother, Caroline.”

Her lips parted, and she stared at him in shock. “What?”

“My father is the King’s youngest brother. Esther planned to kill him, to kill _everyone_ in the royal family, and then place me upon the throne as a puppet. But my magic was too strong, too violent to be easily bent, so she tried again with Henrik. And while his magic bred true for the royal line, it wasn’t a magic that would easily see him put on the throne. I imagine she had other plans, but Kol caught her in her act and her schemes started to unravel.”

“And so your mother was executed for blood magic, and what? _My_ mother told you how to save yourself?” Caroline crossed her arms and stared him down. “Why should I believe you? To do as you have said when she would have to have known how my father, how _Mikael_ , would have reacted to such a move by the Throne. Neither would have easily given up power, and our family was tied too closely to yours to do anything but suffer from your mother’s death. And I am supposed to believe that she _let_ us suffer? That she helped instigate the Civil War that would leave so many of our people dead?”

“Yes.”

The room went from warm to stifling and she swallowed. Throat closing, she tried to find the words to rebuke him, to tell him to speak truly and not whatever this was and she couldn’t find them. She didn’t want to believe him. She wished she didn’t. But Klaus had never lied to her before, and she couldn’t see any gain for him to do it now.

Not looking at him, she sat down on a bench, staring at the glass panes in front of her. “Why?’

Klaus moved carefully and knelt beside her. The steam had turned his clothing opaque, and it clung shockingly to the line of his shoulders and the breadth of his chest. Seeing Klaus nearly bare from the waist up was a sight she shouldn’t have appreciated even in her shock, but there was a strength to him that she had missed.

“I do not know, Caroline, but before we spoke tonight, I thought _you_ did.”

Caroline looked at him, suddenly exhausted. “Why would I know?”

“Because that was part of my bargain with her,” he said, words gentle. “That if I were to walk away from you, if I was to leave you to your father’s whims while I worked to destroy Mikael and Ester’s legacies, that she would tell you _why_. That she would explain. And when I walked back into this castle, she would meet me here as tradition demanded so that we could finalize the rest of our agreement before protocol and the King’s will complicated matters.”

Shoving a riotous curl away from her eyes, she laughed bitterly “And what could you two possibly have to discuss that would be so important?” She flung her hand out in the direction of the courtyard, where his men were camped and her people were sleeping in their homes. “My people are close to starving, my father’s men have stripped this land of everything of value, and only the very young and the old have survived this grab for power. All in the name of a woman who schemed to destroy the Throne and killed innocents. My mother has told me nothing, Lord Mikaelson, and if what you say is true about her being bound by a geas and then a bargain with you, she could be suffering from any number of magical ailments. Such magic is not kind to its hosts, willing or not. So tell me, what could possibly be so important that she should drag herself down several flights of stairs to meet you in person? _What_ could you have to _discuss_?”

He caught her hand, eyes cautious as he tangled his fingers with hers. She blinked, but couldn’t bring herself to protest. Her emotional equilibrium was a disaster and the conversation she thought they would be having, how best to save her people, had fluttered away at the first mention of the word geas. Thumb tracing the line of her knuckles, he leaned his head forward and spoke with a quiet determination. “My forthcoming marriage to you.”

Caroline’s lips parted on a sharp inhale, eyes wide. “What?”

Not even a flicker of a smile crossed his mouth and her breath turned harsh in her throat at the set look behind his eyes. “Our marriage, Caroline.” She shook her head, words failing her, and his fingers tightened around hers. “Did you think I would abandon you?”

“You _did_ abandon me,” she snapped back, her temper rousing with her words. The hurt she’d tucked away into the quiet parts of her heart burning. “No promise to my mother could have been worth the silence between us if what you say is true and you have wished to marry me all these years.”

A short nod, as he accepted her rebuke, but the steeled determination did not falter behind his eyes. “Be as that may, I am set on this course Caroline. The King’s messenger will be here in three days time, and I plan on us to be wed before their arrival. The King will be angry, certainly, but he owes me a great boon, and Ansel is awake. I may have failed you, unintentionally or not, but I will not do so again.”

“Boon or not, you could insight war,” she rasped. “My bloodline…”

“Is of no consequence. I am who I am, Caroline. Every man here belongs to me, and if the King wishes to incite a second war over the daughter of his enemy, he is welcome to do so, though I do not believe it will come to that. Now when he becomes aware of your mother’s sacrifices.”

She wanted to say no _on principle_ , to rage against him, her mother, everything she hadn’t been told. But she had walked into the bath house desperate for a way to save her people, to find a way to survive. Klaus was offering her more than survival. For her people, she would say yes.

For herself...

Caroline lifted her chin. “This may save my people, but it does not absolve you of _my_ anger.”

“I would expect nothing less.” Klaus murmured. He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her cold fingers. “But I will still marry you tomorrow at sunset before our people, and I will have you as my wife.”

She forced herself to stand, to tug her fingers free. Klaus stood with her, those blue eyes burning. “If I am to be married to you tomorrow, arrangements must be made. I will leave you to finish.”

He tipped his head. “Sleep well, love.”

Caroline sucked in a breath once she was outside, shivering in the cooler air. Eyes squeezing shut, she pressed her hand to her pounding heart. Tomorrow, she was to be married, her mother had not truly abandoned her, and Klaus was the bastard nephew of the King. So many things to digest, not enough time.

Squaring her shoulders, she headed for the stairs. She would wake her maid and dig through her closet for something appropriate for tomorrow. The cook would need to be alerted. Her mother told. The mental list grew until she knew the sleep Klaus had wished her would be hard to find. But underneath the rage and confusion, the pain of her abandonment and two years of loneliness was the smallest kernel of hope.

Klaus had come for her. Had fought her father and his father’s armies, had brought his people here. Tomorrow they would be married. She wasn’t sure what she felt about him, his bargain with her mom, or anything he’d said.

But that small bit of hope was stubborn.

But none of that made her any less angry. Curling her fingers into her palms, Caroline squared her shoulders. She would protect her people, but whatever this was between her and Klaus? If he thought a hasty marriage and an apology were enough to cool her temper, he find himself quite surprised. She had no intention of making things easy between them just yet. Cheered at the though, she picked up her space.

Everything was changing, and this time, she was determined to have a say. 


End file.
